A Priori
by Portrait
Summary: Four short stories featuring Death Eaters. Not Dark.
1. Augustus the Wacko

**Chapter One: **Augustus the Wacko.**  
Characters: **Augustus Rookwood, Rodolphus Lestrange, Severus Snape.**  
Summary: **A Muggle watches Augustus and listens to a conversation of his.**  
Rating: **K.

* * *

Augustus Rookwood  
_-Severus Snape_  
Rodolphus Lestrange

**[…]**

Augustus Rookwood paced the uneven pavement, swearing and smoking.

Behind him, a Muggle and her daughter stood disgusted. Here was a greasy, brown-haired man, with blood under his nails, pockmarks on his face, dressed in robes, smoking like a chimney, looking a bit drunk, and swearing gleefully in a loud tone.

He appeared to be waiting for someone.

"Excuse me, sir?" Said the woman. She did not want to talk to this man (who smelt strongly of both smoke and alcohol), but she wanted him gone so her daughter would not have to be scandalized by him. "Are you waiting for someone?"

He looked at the Muggle and smirked, showing off yellowing teeth.

"Yeah," he drawled, pulling his wand from his robe. He twirled it in his fingers leisurely, seemingly at ease with her discomfort.

The woman widened her eyes and backed a pace away. _Who is this wacko? _She knew she should just walk away, they were in a parking lot, after all, but she could not bring herself to.

"I'm waiting for two of my mates. You seen 'em?"

"I am afraid to say that I don't know what they look like." What was the wacko thinking?

"I'm looking for two of my friends. One twenty-two, the other seventeen."

He paused.

"Specifically," he smirked some more.

"Rodolphus Lestrange and Severus Snape."

The woman was on the verge of pulling her daughter away when an impeccably dressed man waltzed up to the wacko.

"Why are you conversing with a Muggle? Are you so bored?" He smirked. "Really, Augustus?"

"Shut it, Rodolphus. I am older than you."

"So?"

"Shut it."

Rodolphus and Augustus continued on with their petty conversation. They were so immersed in their talk that they did not notice a greasy, big-nosed man, also wearing robes, walk up to them.

"If you two could stop fighting," he said softly. "I would like to leave."

He shot a condensing glance at the Muggle.

"Hi Severus!" Rodolphus greeted happily.

"How is it going?" Augustus asked, slipping his wand away.

Severus sighed and shook his head. "Let us leave. We can catch up when we get to Knockturn Alley. Why we had to meet at this … place –" he gestured around the parking lot – "is beyond me."

"Rodolphus cares about Muggle fashion –" Before he could finish his insult, Rodolphus and Severus had walked away.

"Go away you stupid Unspeakable." Rodolphus ordered, evidently unhappy with being insulted.

"I will tell you what happened at work today," he bargained, catching up with his friends.

"All right, go ahead."

They disappeared from view, and the Muggle turned to her daughter, serious.

"That Augustus is why you should never smoke. Look what it does to you."

Her daughter nodded and spoke: "Can we go now? I've had enough stupidity for one day." Secretly, she thought that the one called Rodolphus was nice looking, and she hoped for him to come back, but that was not for her mother to know.

The Muggle and the Daughter walked forward toward the mall, trying to forget about their weird encounter with the strange men.


	2. Muggle Brutality

**Chapter Two: **Muggle Brutality**  
Characters: **Avery (Marauder-Era)**  
Summary: **Avery, 13, has breakfast with his family, and the treatment he receives from his father affects his future decisions.**  
Rating: **K+.

* * *

_It was terrible._

_Embarrassing._

_Humiliating._

His little sister busted through the door to his room and said, "Os! Mum says that it is time for breakfast."

Avery peeled his head from his comforter and scowled at the eight-year-old. "It is Avery. Avery. Not Os. Avery. You know that."

She smiled sweetly at him. "You are my brother. I call you by your first name, not your last." Her eyes twinkled. "Time for breakfast Ossy!" She left the door wide open and skipped away.

_It was the worst._

_It was hell._

_He _could_ admit to kicking puppies._

His mother was neutral towards the Light and Dark. She was young and quiet, but prone to funny outbursts. Her hair was dark and very wavy, skin the color of the milk she had set out.

His father was Dark, a Death Eater, in fact. They resembled each other greatly – longish rusty hair, tall and pale, green eyes. He had a job that payed well enough, but the family was no where near rich.

His sister was five years younger than he. She had her mothers hair and fathers eyes. She did not seem to be a very powerful witch, and had no interest in wards, unlike her brother. She was also an accident, something he delighted in telling her.

She was sitting in his seat.

"Move, Amelia," he ordered. "You are in my seat."

"Os, sweetie? What does it matter?" His mother asked pleasantly.

She came up with his horrid name.

"Avery," he growled, thoroughly angry at this point. "Not Os. I _hate _Os."

_It was punishment._

_It was demeaning._

_It was never-ending._

"Pass the butter?" He asked his father. Amelia was still in his seat.

Jameson raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? You have enough butter."

Avery sighed.

"Tell us about your friends," Marygold, his mother, prompted. "You never talk about them."

"We do not care," Amelia answered quickly. "That is why you have not been asked."

"Hush," Jameson said.

Avery glowered.

"Pass the butter."

"Tell us about your friends and you can have the butter," Jameson dealed.

_Son of a bitch, _Avery thought.

"Only the people in my year." He began. "Evan and Wilkes. Best friends. Mulciber, he's a psycho. Then Severus, potions whiz and buddies with a Mudblood." Avery sneered and snatched the butter.

_It was sudden._

_It was painful._

_It was beneath him._

His father reached over and slapped him. "Friends with a blood traitor?"

Avery was furious. "Half-blood."

He was hit again. "Absolutely disgusting."

Breakfast was over.

Avery walked away soon after, muttering about Muggle forms of brutality.

"You say something?" His father asked, temper wavering.

"No."

_It was fast._

_It was wonderful._

_It was the future._

He was seventeen, between year six and seven, and the Dark Lord had just informed him that his father had died in a battle.

_A bloody shame._

"I refuse to have my numbers compromised because of your fathers stupidity. Therefore, you shall join now."

He was originally going to do so after he graduated.

"Y-yes my Lord," he stammered, falling to his knees and kissing the hem of his new Masters robes.

_It was worth it._

_It was the best thing to ever happen to him._

_It was the destruction of his life._


	3. The Sorting of the Lestrange Heir

**Chapter Three: **The Sorting of the Lestrange Heir.**  
Characters: **Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black, Bellatrix Black, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, Hagrid, McGonagall**  
Summary: **The sorting of Rodolphus Lestrange.**  
Rating: **K.

* * *

Behind the wall of platform 9 ¾, Rodolphus Lestrange stood facing his father, and his younger brother, Rabastan. Rabastan was upset with Rodolphus' leaving, and his father was pleased to see one of his sons begin their education.

"I promise that I will write to you every day. Father got my some Floo powder, you know, so I will Floo home from Slughorn's office. I won't get caught, and I'll do it often, okay?"

Rodolphus hugged his little brother tightly, then tucked a long strand of hair behind his right ear. "I'll miss you, father."

"And I you," the Death Eater said simply.

The train whistled, and Rodolphus whirled around for a moment. He hugged Rabastan and his father again. As he turned to walk to the train he said, "By Rabby, by father!"

Once inside the train, he went looking for his friends. Lucius, Augustus, and Antonin were third years, Narcissa a second, and Bellatrix a sixth. They sat together, Rodolphus was told, but he knew from experience that Lucius and Bellatrix could not be trusted to get along.

When he found them, he slid the compartment door open, smiling merrily. "Hi!" He said brightly.

Augustus glanced listlessly at him, and Antonin smirked. "Nervous, Rodolphus?"

"Not at all," he replied confidently, seating himself on Bellatrix's lap.

She glared at his head for a moment, but did not make him move.

Narcissa asked kindly, "Is Rabastan okay?"

She knew that Rodolphus would be much more upset than Rabastan, but she knew Rodolphus, and so she inquired.

"He seemed like he was fine, but I worry. I will miss him _so _much. I know he will miss me _so _much. Daddy was okay."

Lucius nodded, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his lips. "Are you sure _Daddy _is doing okay? Sure he does not need a good cry with _Rabby_? I know I sure would not miss you."

Rodolphus looked as if he was going to cry, but then smiled brightly and said, "I know you don't mean that, Lucius! You are my friend, and you only play with me." He eyes shone with doubt for a moment. "Right?"

Lucius, knowing Rodolphus as well as Narcissa, nodded. "Yes, Rodolphus, I was only playing."

The conversation returned to what it had been before Rodolphus interrupted.

When the train stopped, Rodolphus followed the others off, but when he entered the night and saw Hagrid calling for them, _to go on a boat. In the water. At night. _He point blank refused to go. "What if I fall in?" He demanded to Hagrid.

"Then 'he Squid 'll get ya," Hagrid said breezily.

Rodolphus blanched and looked appalled. "The only way I would like that squid would be dead on a platter. I will _not _get on the boat."

The other first years were beginning to get impatient, shuffle their feet, and glare at Rodolphus.

He snapped.

"What do you all wanted?" He snarled. Then, pointing to a boy in jeans, "You have some nerve _Mudblood, _to look at _me _that way! I am the only one intelligent enough to have a lick of sense!"

"Don' use tha' language!" Hagrid ordered.

Rodolphus glared up at the much taller man. "Why are _you _put in charge of this? You great oaf, I bet this lake thing was _your _idea."

Then he looked to where the carriages had disappeared. "I shall walk."

Hagrid picked Rodolphus up when he turned and deposited him in a boat.

Later, once in the hall, Bellatrix caught Rodolphus' eye. He had the look he always caught when things went the very opposite way he wanted them to. His green eyes were wide and sparking with anger, and they twitched around, glaring at everyone. His pale hands were clenched into fists, and his lips were pursed. He barely moved, and when anyone touched him, he jumped wildly and moved away from them, mumbling curses.

"Poor Rodolphus. You know how much he hates being over water," Narcissa murmured.

"He only does not like that because his precious _hair _could get wet, or his precious _robes, _or his precious _skin – " _Augustus sneered.

"You only saw that because you are jealous," Bellatrix snapped.

By this point, McGonagall had gotten to "Lestrange, Rodolphus."

Rodolphus obediently marched up to the stool and sat down, but he held the hat delicately in his hands. "I am _not _going to put this ratty thing on _my _head."

McGonagall pursed her lips, having already gone through this problem with certain other students.

Narcissa smirked at Rodolphus, envisioning herself, and Lucius shook his head, ever the hypocrite.

"I'm sure it will only take a moment. Please." She ordered.

Scowling, Rodolphus did as asked.

_You do not seem to be a very stable young man._

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rodolphus knew there was nothing wrong with him.

_Paranoia, short-temper, an interest in the Dark Arts, emotionally stunted, just to name a few._

"So?"

_Shall we go through all the houses. Your father wanted to hear it all._

"Just get it over with."

_Hufflepuff. Loyal, in all the wrong ways. Not friendly or open-minded. Definitely not. Ravenclaw. Bright, very bright. Gryffindor. Brave, yes, but not exceedingly so. You think before you do things and you have quite a high amount of self-preservation. _

The hat said –

"_Slytherin!"_

The Slytherin table erupted in cheers, and Rodolphus yanked the hat of his head, tossed it on the floor, and tread on it as he went to his seat. He heard none of what McGonagall had to say.

As he sat down, he smoothed his shiny, dark brown hair, glaring at the hat, now on the head of the Mudblood he had insulted.

"Such an attitude," Bellatrix remarked, clicking her tongue.

"Just like Lucius. _Pretty boys._" Bellatrix wrinkled her nose and glared at Rodolphus. "You are a pure-blood. Act like one."

"I do!" Rodolphus defended.

"Leave him alone!" Narcissa abolished. "You are only mad because you are hungry. Calm yourself and wait. Please, Bella." She pleaded.

"Very well, Cissy… Malfoy! Get you slimy hands off my sister!" She shirked. The hall turned to look at her.

"Bella, what the bloody hell is the matter with you?" The fellow Black asked. Bellatrix knew Narcissa was engaged, and she knew she loved Lucius, and she damn well knew they were together.

"I do not like to see his dirty hands on _my _little sister." Bellatrix shrugged, glaring still at Lucius.

"And _I _don't like to see _your _dirty hands on _my _fiancée," Lucius snarled.

"I need a wash," Rodolphus muttered angrily. "Absolutely disgusting. Why can't the thing be cleaned?"

Bellatrix, Lucius, Narcissa, Antonin, and Augustus stared at Rodolphus. He sat stiffly in his seat, small hands smoothing over his head, scowling. He glared at Dumbledore, the door, and the table, as if willing Dumbledore to make the food appear.

Everyone who knew Rodolphus knew that he hated germs, hated when things didn't go his way, and hated anything that messed up his pretty perfect image. The hat and the boat ride are two examples of things Rodolphus detests. He was not used to not getting his way, and definitely not used to such atrocities happening twice in one day.

"Rodolphus, it is not that bad," Bellatrix said dismissively. "It spent almost no time on your head. Get over it."

"Food!" Antonin exclaimed happily.

"Do _not _interrupt-"

"Food!" Augustus cheered.

Conversation ceased until the teenagers made their way into the Common Room.

"Go away now, firstie, I don't need you mucking up my image," Antonin said dismissively.

Rodolphus swung around to glare at Antonin, "Don't call me a firstie!"

"Who is that noisy little bugger?" Some fifth year muttered.

Rodolphus looked at her.

"I am your worst nightmare!"

She laughed cruelly and walked over to Rodolphus, bending to press one finger over his lips. "Aw, now baby, be a good boy. Didn't Mummy ever teach you to respect your elders?"

Rodolphus took out his wand and hexed her. "My mother is dead," he snarled.

Narcissa glared at the girl. "You stupid little half-blood…" Rodolphus did not get to hear the rest of what Narcissa had to say. He had stomped into his dorm, grabbed his toiletries from his truck, and had holed himself up in the bathroom.

Things were not going the way he wanted, and Rodolphus could not wait for his education to end.


	4. Grandma Is Not Loved

**Chapter Four: **Grandma Is Not Loved.**  
Characters: **Augustus Rookwood.**  
Summary: **Augustus Rookwood's grandmother comes to visit and he is not pleased. His mother speaks of him, and he thinks about what was said.**  
Rating: **K+.

* * *

It was not his fault, but that did not mean he couldn't feel ashamed. Because he most certainly did.

Grendla Rookwood opened the front door to the Rookwood… _hovel. _Perhaps it was not a hovel, but compared to the homes of the friends he had had for two years, it certainly was. Grendla smiled cheerfully when she greeted her mother, a Muggle, and her blood traitor father. Kendra Newman did not understand what it meant to be magical, and she did not come close to understanding what it meant to be a Dark Arts practising Slytherin in a family of Light-loving Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.

Algernon Rookwood rapped an arm around his wife's waist as they greeted their guests, a welcoming smile on his face. He worked in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes as an Obliviator. One would think he knew better than to befriend Muggles. Obviously not.

Kendra smiled at her grandson and addressed her daughter. "Is he still doing that… stuff?"

"We have burned the books, but I believe him to be in contact with Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov, both from families that practice Dark magic. Which he knows better than to do." Grendla answered, shutting the door and placing a tea tray on the coffee table where they all sat.

Augustus leaned against the wall, a vague sneer on his face. He did not know why he had to be out here when _she _came.

"Explain it to me again, dear. You think after all these years I would understand, but I do not."

Her husband was a quiet man.

"No one in our family, _ever, _has been in Slytherin house. Now, you know I hate stereotypes, but most of the Dark, meaning bad, I suppose, wizards come from that house. Augustus is in that house. In it, he has befriended two children from prominent pure blood families, and they know the Dark Arts better than any subject, I'm sure. They are teaching Augustus. Not only that, but they are shoving their prejudices on him. We raised him not to hate Muggles or care for blood status. Unfortunately, he breaks all the rules we have set out. Alegeron and I both worry about his future. We think he may join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Sensing the confusion on her face (and cursing her father for keeping her in the dark) Grendla explained: "He wants to kill all Muggles, and hates everyone who's not a pure blood."

"I thought Augustus was a half-blood," Kendra frowned.

"He is!" Algernon exclaimed. "And we raised him better."

Kendra looked at Augustus and beckoned to him. "You don't love me?"

Augustus did not move from the wall.

"I don't love you."

His parents faces hardened.

"In fact, I am rather embarrassed by you…"

Algernon interrupted his son, "Go to your room!" His shout echoed throughout the house.

Augustus smiled. "_Finally_…" He walked away.

Kendra shock her head. "Why does he hate ones that cannot do magic?" He used to be such a sweet boy.

"I haven't a clue." Grendla shrugged. "I believe it started developing before he went to Hogwarts, but I'm not sure."

Algernon added: "I hoped he would at least put it aside while you came, but unfortunately not." Anything else he was going to say died in his throat as they saw a sandwich a bottle of _beer _go sailing past them, and, presumably, into Augustus' room. The five of them stood and walked over to Augustus' room and through open the door. He knew he was not to use magic, or drink alcohol. He never did think of consequences, though.

"Hi Mum, Dad." He ignored his grandparents. He took a swig of the newly opened beer and a bite of the sandwich.

Algernon grabbed the food from him and banished it. "You do not use magic! You do not drink alcohol." Augustus snorted. Algernon's eyes focused on the top of his sons dresser. "And you do not smoke!" He banished the cigarettes. The look of devastation on his sons face was enough to suggest that he had been smoking for a while.

To angry to deal with him, Algernon shock his head and signaled to the red-faced Grendla. "You, Augustus, are grounded until the school year begins. When your grandparents leave, we are going to have a serious talk about what happened here."

**[…]**

Honestly, Augustus had a relatively healthy mind. Insanity was not prevalent in his family, like it was in the Black and Lestrange families. (_Only a Lestrange can please a Lestrange?_) He had believed in the so-called pure blood ideals before school, but he kept it quiet. He did not need two angry parents and no wand.

As stupid and incompetent as he found his parents, he could admit his mother was right. He _did _want to be a Death Eater. Few knew what they, Lord Voldemort's followers, were called, but Augustus was assured that the world would soon.

He was not too worried as he waited for his parents to yell at him. Or do something else that they threatened, but Augustus shuddered and knew they would not. It had been years.

Regardless of what was going to happen, Augustus knew that he was not the smartest blokeout there. Far from it, in fact. He did not think ahead, like a Slytherin should, and he was impulsive, like a Gryffiendor, but he was ambitious, and knew a good couple of _Crucio's _and someone would be good and insane.

He was fourteen, and admittedly, may not have meant all he thought, but Augustus truly hoped that his grandmother would survive until he was seventeen. She was, after all, the reason he was not a pure blood.


End file.
